It took Apollo 11, starting in Florida, 4 days 6 hours and 45 minutes to get to the moon.
We’re going to change the world.
Neil leaned back in his seat, feeling the belt tighten around him as he shifted. That was a nice concept, he supposed, and no doubt had earned the government a good many supporters, but this? This was discomfort at it’s finest.
Don’t be such a child, he chastised himself. There’s only... One glance at the board told him there were at least 23 hours left for their arrival.
Fuck the moon, he thought determinedly. The object in question stared back at him from the large tinted window above the consul. It felt like they were going to crash right into it, and yet it was still miles and miles out of reach.
Neil sighed, glancing instead at the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand. His wife had scribbled down three different lines for him to say.
“So when you’re there, you won’t get all tongue tied,” she’d explained, not looking up from the paper. He really hoped he wouldn’t die on the moon.
‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,’ said the first.
That didn’t sound so bad.
Tell me something interesting and I'll write the first thing that comes to mind
